Work Text:
Seungmin has no idea what to do.
Getting a job as a kitchen porter exactly eleven days ago hadn’t exactly been the best idea… in his defense, he had gotten so desperate for a paying job that by the third week of endlessly applying for different part-time positions he had simply thrown away all sense and applied for any and every job within a twenty mile radius.
When he had gotten the call asking him to come in for a trial shift the next day, he had accepted - only finding out after the phone call where the resort he’d be working at even was.
He thought he had been over the worst of it: on his first day he had been given exactly one hour’s training, at the end of his five hour trial shift, and then told he’d need to “open up” the next day first thing, with no instructions on how to ready the immense kitchen for a long day of intense work and cooking. After a long sleepless night of worrying and anxiety, he had gone in the next day and found his feet a little, learning on the job and picking up the necessary speed needed for a kitchen job fairly quickly.
He thought the worst was over. He thought that after eleven days, after learning names and staff positions, after finding his feet and getting used to the endless list of physical labour and perfection he had to carry out without stopping each day, he had finally settled in and found his place.
He thought wrong .
“ There’s a lot to do tonight, Seungmin ,” his boss had said before leaving for the night, “don’t worry if you have to stay for extra time. That’s okay; that’s fine if you stay for longer. ”
“Isn’t that supposed to be me reassuring you that it’s okay for me to stay longer than expected?” Seungmin wonders aloud to the empty kitchen, staring blankly in the direction his boss had just left. His boss had been the last chef left in the kitchen after a long Saturday of weddings, and so Seungmin was left completely alone, without help, dealing with the disastrous aftermath of it, twenty minutes before his shift was supposed to end. At eleven o’clock at night. He had a cab booked to come at ten past, for goodness’ sake! But instead, he’s stuck here, with at least five dishwashers’ worth of pots, pans, plates and cutlery to scrub and clean; floors to sweep, tidy and mop; bins to take out and change and sanitise; the rest of the work surfaces to sanitise and wipe down; not to mention drying and putting away every single thing he’s washed.
Despite keeping as on top of things as he could, everything has still piled up: too fast, too thick, too quick for him, and he feels like he’s drowning.
Oh, and to top it all off, there had been another kitchen porter on duty with him, who had simply come up the stairs, said goodbye to him, and left, as if his job was completely finished. Seungmin had almost burst right into tears as he had watched him leave, wanting nothing more than to call him back and demand his help to lessen his workload. But he didn’t; too polite and scared to come across as rude to ask for more help, and now here he stands, surrounded by work, exhausted and emotional.
For someone who is usually so organised, having so much work piled up on top of him feels a lot like an avalanche. And much like an avalanche, he’s lost control of it all.
Looking at the clock - 22:43 , it reads - he sighs and dials the cab company he’d booked his cab from. He knows he won’t be finished by the time it arrives, and needs to know if he’ll be charged extra if he makes the driver wait a while as he finishes up. He only brought enough money with him to cover the journey home, it’ll be a disaster if he can’t pay on top of it all.
The phone rings for five minutes, torturously on hold due to the line being overloaded, until someone finally answers. It’s five minutes he could have spent getting his work done, but in his current mental state he can only manage one thing at a time. And right now, that’s calling the company before his cab arrives.
The line connects after an eternity of waiting, and Seungmin is stuck listening to thirty whole seconds of mindless background chatter before someone finally thinks to greet him, making him huff in frustration at their unprofessionalism.
“I have a question,” he says in response to the employee’s question of whether he would like to book a cab, and the employee sneers through the phone.
“You have a question ,” they mock, and Seungmin hears laughter on the other end of the line. He winces. “What is it?”
“I was just wondering -- if I’m a little late when my cab arrives, will they charge me extra? My job is overrunning and I won’t be finished by the time my ride arrives.”
More laughter. “They won’t wait,” the employee snickers, as if Seungmin’s incredibly stupid. “They won’t wait.”
“Oh.” Seungmin swallows hard. “Can I cancel my cab then?”
“Yep,” the employee says, and then the line goes dead. Seungmin’s about to call back to ask how the bloody hell they know which taxi to cancel, but then he remembers he booked it online this morning, and his account is under his phone number, so they’ll access the bookings that way. He tries to push the patronizing rudeness of the phone call out of his mind and glances across the kitchen, making a mental list of everything he needs to do.
The clock reads 23:01. He tries not to make an audible sound of stress, even though there’s no one around to hear it.
Sweep up, mop, dishes, scrubbing, sanitising, drying, putting away, bins--
A single tear rolls down Seungmin’s cheek, followed by another, and another, until there are endless rivulets flowing like a broken dam down his cheeks, soaking his skin and collar in uncomfortable wetness that streaks through the sweat already present in a disgusting-feeling mixture of stickiness.
I should be going home right now, he thinks pitifully, trying in vain to wipe away liquid evidence of his distress, evidence that won’t stop falling no matter how hard he tries.
“Stop crying,” he tells himself aloud, and his voice echoes in the silence of the usually deafening kitchen. “Stop crying. You’re not getting anything done like this.” Compartmentalise , he tries to tell his brain. His brain responds with a big fat fuck no .
After a moment he feels himself getting frustrated at his tears, and tries to furiously wipe them away as he heads towards the dishwasher, opening it up and dragging the plastic trays out, full of freshly cleaned equipment. The temperature dial blinks in neon orange at him, 61 degrees Celsius, but he doesn’t check it before diving in to take the plates away from their plastic confines, and cries out as his fingers explode with pain, burning, stinging. He tries to shake the pain away, impatient to get his damn job done and go home, but it stays persisting, the skin tightening uncomfortably.
“Fine,” he says aloud, “I’ll wait for the dishes to cool.” Instead, he picks up the floor brush, choosing to sweep around the whole kitchen and waiting area as the dishwasher contents cool enough for him to touch them. Thankfully this task goes without a hitch - he puts his AirPods in and listens to his favourite music as he sweeps, uninterrupted by anyone as he works. He leaves the dirt and excess food in a pile on the floor to tackle with the dustpan in a moments’ time and heads back to the cooled dishes, taking them away from the washer and loading it back up again. This is a cycle he repeats a few times, moving between sweeping and mopping the floor of the kitchen, waiting area, and fridges before moving back to the dish washers.
It takes half an hour to be done with those tasks. He seizes the sanitiser spray and cloths with vigour, sanitising each surface well before wiping it down and counting down the seconds until he’ll finally be able to pass out in bed - hopefully into the arms of his boyfriend, too, who’s probably already asleep by now, the lucky bastard - when he reaches the far sink in the kitchen area, full of pots and pans that need scrubbing before washing in the dishwasher. He groans tearfully, feeling a fresh wave of frustration creep up on him, a tsunami of helplessness, and turns the hot water on.
He wants Jeongin.
Usually he calls his boyfriend after he leaves work, letting him know he’s left and is coming home, and is greeted with a sleepy “hurry back!” that gives him the energy to give directions to his driver ti deliver him back home, where Jeongin would be waiting, sitting up in bed but stoutly refusing to sleep until Seungmin had also slipped into bed beside him. Tonight, once Seungmin had seen his unbearable workload he had fired off a short message to him, letting him know he may be incredibly late and not to wait up for him. Jeongin replied with a simple " okay, I hope it’s nothing too bad :( come back soon!" - and Seungmin feels his heart ache with longing. What he would give to be in Jeongin’s arms right now, instead of this dimly lit kitchen devoid of activity, vaguely resembling a horror movie setup… but it’s best not to get into how ominous his surroundings are right now.
Scrub, wash, bins, finish, he thinks to himself, and repeats the words like a mantra as he goes about slowly ridding the rest of the sink of the pots and pans that have burned food stuck to them like barnacles to the bottom of a boat - seriously , how do these chefs have time to burn everything so badly? - and his arms burn with effort afterwards. Still, he powers through, and although his music isn’t providing him with the usual energy burst he’s used to, and even though the tears don’t stop burning behind his eyelids every time he blinks, threatening to spill over at the slightest movement, he keeps going, and is incredibly proud of himself when he finally finishes.
“Good fucking riddance,” he whispers as he surveys the freshly cleaned kitchen, and is about to leave when -- shit, the bins. Four gloriously stinky, disgusting bins full of food he needs to clean out, empty and furbish with clean bin bags for the next day. Fuck. There’s no rest for the wicked… or the kitchen porters, apparently.
He holds his breath as he ties knots in the fullest bags, double-bagging where needed, and does his best to ignore the rustle and scuttle of rats scrabbling about in the huge metal bins across the car park from the kitchens. Not my problem; not within my paycheck. He washes his hands thoroughly when he returns, and goes back onto the cab website to book himself another cab to come within fifteen minutes. Once that’s done, he messages Jeongin: " just finished, booked a cab. Will msg when it’s here."
This kitchen is done and clean, and Seungmin knows that one more wedding is being celebrated in the section of the resort where the other kitchen is, and that’s where the waitressing staff will be. Not wanting to be alone with himself any longer, he grabs his belongings and scuttles across the resort to the celebrations, slipping behind the bar as inconspicuous as someone in kitchen uniform, mismatching the other waiters, and tries to grin tiredly at the staff there.
“Damn, are you okay?” one vaguely familiar waiter whose name tag reads Changbin asks with concern, and Seungmin nods.
“Stressful night, you know how it is. Just waiting for my cab to arrive,” he explains, and Changbin nods before offering him a drink, free of charge. Seungmin declines, choosing to just sip from his water bottle. Anything alcoholic or carbonated added to his system now will just send him into overdrive, and he doesn’t need a sugar high or tipsy edge making him feel nauseous on top of everything else.
“Oh - is there still food in the kitchen?” he asks before Changbin goes out to serve more people. He wasn’t told to clean the kitchen down here, as the celebrations are still ongoing, but he knows that there was more food made after the initial post-reception meal, and knows that the wedding food here is god tier. If he can grab some, he’s going to - god knows he deserves it.
“Yeah, help yourself,” Changbin grins, and Seungmin hurries to the kitchen, where he finds scraps of leftover wedding cake along with rows and rows of gorgeous bacon sandwiches, which he grabs a handful of and scarfs down like a man starved for a week. The food settles his painfully churning stomach - he’d forgotten he hasn’t eaten since lunch, save for stealing some bites of the leftover three-course meals that had been served at five. His stomach sings at the feeling of finally being filled.
The clock reads 00:32. He’d booked his taxi half an hour ago - with nothing afterwards, no notifications, no updates, nothing. Where was it? -- as if on cue, his phone pings.
"Due to high demand your booking is running late. We have prioritised your booking."
Seungmin sighs shakily, leaning against the dishwasher as he brings a hand to his head. Usually, once a certain time of night has passed over, his body feels like it begins to give up on him, making him nauseous and shaky, and today is no exception. Even with the food giving him new energy to power through, he feels his hands and arms start to shake; his head beginning to spin. He should sit down - but he knows that once he does, the feeling will fully hit. He can’t stop. He can’t sit down - not if he wants to leave here without being ill.
He walks back to the bar, where he offers to help with waiting on guests for a while until his cab arrives. The bright strobe lights and deafening bass of the music that the wedding guests are dancing to feel like they cut straight through his body, and his entire head begins to throb painfully, so he excuses himself before long to go and wait somewhere quieter. Still no word from his cab.
The clock reads 01:07. He can’t stop the new wave of tears that attacks his exhausted body this time; the defeat of having worked nonstop for ten hours straight catching up to him and feeling like it’s about to knock him straight to the ground.
He startles when his phone rings suddenly, loud and piercing. He stares dumbly at the screen for a moment, wondering why his cab company has a picture of Jeongin as their contact picture - when he realises that it’s actually Jeongin calling, dumbass - pick up the phone.
“Hello?” he asks, his brain not even functioning at this point. He can’t make it work. No more brain time. Boyfriend where please?
“Seungmin?” Jeongin sounds way more awake than he should be at this ungodly hour. “Where are you?”
“I’m still at work, my taxi hasn’t come yet,” Seungmin slurs his words, not quite knowing how to fix them. “Booked an hour ago. Not here.”
“That’s -- oh my god,” Jeongin says, and then Seungmin hears the rustling of fabric as Jeongin mumbles something about unbelievable and complaints under his breath. “Cancel your ride.”
“What?” Seungmin’s brain switches off. “But I need to get home .”
“Cancel the cab. I’m coming for you instead,” Jeongin instructs him, and Seungmin’s legs fail him; he falls into the nearest chair, clutching the phone to his ear like a vice.
“You’re coming for me?” he repeats in a whisper, cursing the tears that immediately spill over - god, stop crying , you’re such a baby when you’re this tired - and Jeongin sighs fondly into the receiver.
“Yeah, I’m in the car right now,” he replies. “I’ll be fifteen minutes max. Cancel your taxi, baby. I’m on my way.”
The line goes dead, and Seungmin stares dumbly at the screen for a minute before dialling the cab company again, quickly cancelling his cab for the second time in three hours before staring at the wall in shock.
Changbin walks back into the room, swinging a dishrag over his shoulder as he does so, and gives Seungmin a once-over. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry--
Changbin sits down next to him and hands him a tissue. “Here.” Oh. Too late.
“Thank you,” Seungmin sniffles. “Just… long night. Everything’s been too much today… but it’s okay. My boyfriend is coming to pick me up because my cab hasn’t come after over an hour.”
Changbin whistles. “An entire hour? That’s awful, I’d complain if I were you.”
Seungmin snorts, the sound coming out a lot wetter than expected and making him shudder at the feeling of mucus dripping down his throat. “Sorry. I can’t seem to stop crying tonight.”
“Hey, it’s okay man!” Changbin grins again, patting Seungmin’s shoulder before moving his hand to Seungmin’s back, rubbing in soothing circles. “I get the same when I’m tired. It’s like you can’t control it, yeah?”
“Exactly,” Seungmin agrees, and Changbin smiles reassuringly, sitting with him and talking to distract him until Jeongin arrives. When Seungmin’s phone pings again, lighting up with the long overdue message of "I ’m here!" from Jeongin; Changbin pulls Seungmin to his feet and walks outside to Jeongin’s car with him, taking such unnecessary care of Seungmin that makes Seungmin want to cry even harder at his kindness.
“Thank you,” he says to Changbin as Jeongin gets out of the car, and Changbin waves a nonchalant hand.
“It’s really no problem. Now go and rest , I’ll see you on your next shift.” and with that, he’s gone.
Seungmin turns around to Jeongin already holding his arms out for him, and sinks into his boyfriend’s familiar embrace without a second thought, burying his face in Jeongin’s neck and instantly wetting it with his tears.
“Oh, baby,” Jeongin soothes, stroking Seungmin’s hair, and Seungmin instantly feels so much calmer. All I needed was someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. “Sounds like you had the shittiest night ever.”
“Mmhmm,” Seungmin mumbles into his favourite scent, the scent of comfort and love and home.
“Come on,” Jeongin whispers, “let’s get into the car. We’ll be home so soon, and then you can sleep for as long as you want.” Seungmin’s next shift is only at five in the afternoon, so he really can sleep for as long as he wants. He really doesn’t want to let go of his favourite person in the world, though - not when he’s so exhausted and emotional.
“I’ve brought a spare hoodie of mine for you to wear whilst I drive,” Jeongin adds on, and Seungmin nods reluctantly, allowing Jeongin to step back and free himself from Seungmin’s octopus embrace. Even the small gesture of bringing a hoodie for Seungmin makes Seungmin’s heart pound with affection; the minuscule remembrance that Seungmin needs familiarity when upset and finds the most comfort in physical reminders of the presence of his loved ones is something that threatens to overwhelm him again, but this time only in a positive way. He loves Jeongin so much. Knowing he can’t let Seungmin cling to him as he drives, he brought one of his hoodies for Seungmin to wear or hug -- he takes such delicate notice to Seungmin’s every need, and Seungmin is endlessly grateful.
“There you are,” Jeongin murmurs, and kisses Seungmin chastely, cradling his face oh-so gently and kissing him so gently, so lovingly that Seungmin feels the adoration filling every single part of him. He tries not to melt into the ground at the feeling, but the way Jeongin’s hands move from his face to around his waist, holding tightly, tells him that he’s not doing the best job.
“Come on then, love, time to go home and rest,” Jeongin says then, and Seungmin follows him into the car, choosing to ball up Jeongin’s hoodie and hug it tightly to his chest, burying his nose in the soft fabric there instead of wearing it to replace the feeling of what he wishes was Jeongin himself in his arms. Jeongin smiles knowingly at Seungmin as he starts the car, and then drives swiftly - but smoothly - back home, proceeding to unbuckle Seungmin's seatbelt for him and then open his car door, then their apartment door, for him too. It’s unneeded, but it makes Seungmin feel so loved, so taken care of, that he doesn’t mention it.
Jeongin goes into the bathroom as Seungmin toes his shoes off, and Seungmin can hear the shower start running from the hallway. “Come and shower, love, I know you won’t sleep well if you’re still dirty from your shift,” Jeongin says quietly, and the sight of him standing there, bathed in soft light in their shared apartment, making sure that Seungmin is still taking care of himself to ensure the best night’s sleep possible, makes Seungmin want to kiss him all over his perfect face. So he does.
Giggling as Seungmin presses kiss after kiss to his lips, then forehead, then cheeks, then nose, Jeongin attempts to step back slowly, leading Seungmin into the bathroom himself. Towels sit folded on the closed toilet seat, and the water has already heated up perfectly, casting the bathroom in a thin, barely there atmosphere of steam.
“Go and get clean,” Jeongin whispers, pulling away properly only to dive back in and press a lingering kiss to Seungmin’s forehead. “I’ll get you some pyjamas whilst you’re showering. But don’t take too long, it’s --” - he checks his watch -- “past two o’clock already.”
“Okay,” Seungmin whispers back, not feeling up to raising his voice any more. Or even talking , for that matter, but he’ll talk for Jeongin. Only Jeongin. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Jeongin smiles, “very much. Now shower so we can cuddle each other to sleep.”
That does indeed sound lovely… So Seungmin starts stripping, not even waiting for Jeongin to leave, which makes the younger giggle - and steps beneath the steady stream of water, reaching for his soap and loofah to scrub away any and all evidence of his shift. Gone is the uncomfortable sweat sticking to his skin like tar, and the ache in his muscles begins to loosen up under the hot stream of water. When he steps out, freshly shampooed and fresh, he speeds through his skincare, loving the feeling of freshly moisturised skin that’s not marred with tears and residual grease from his hands. His eyes sting like hell from all of his crying, and he knows that his face is red and puffy from it too, but when he steps back into the bedroom, clad in the pyjamas Jeongin snuck back into the bathroom to supply him with, Jeongin looks at him with the same amount of awe he had looked at him with on their first date, and Seungmin falls into bed beside him with a sleepy chuckle.
“Welcome back, handsome,” Jeongin says, and hands him a glass of water to drink, chilly from the jug in the fridge. Seungmin almost laughs when he thinks of what his friends would say if they saw him being taken of like this -- usually, he doesn’t let anyone near him take care of him, and prefers to put up a tougher, independent front. Jeongin is possibly the only person he’d felt comfortable letting his guard completely down in front of, and although the roles are usually reversed, he feels good to be the one being babied. It feels amazing, even. Incredible. Seungmin feels so, so loved.
Once Seungmin has drained his glass Jeongin takes it back and sets it on his bedside stand before turning the lamp next to their bed off too, plunging their room into darkness. Seungmin almost forgets to lay down somehow, and it’s only when Jeongin pulls him down to lay beside him that he registers that yes, it’s definitely more ideal to lay down when you want to sleep, Seungmin.
“You did well today,” Jeongin mumbles, and Seungmin can tell that he, too, is halfway to dreamland. “I’m proud of you… proud of you for getting through it. Rest time now. Sleepy. Love you.”
“Thank you,” Seungmin whispers, and draws Jeongin into his arms tightly, burying his nose in Jeongin’s hair as Jeongin’s hands come up to bunch in his shirt. “Love you too.”
“Mmmhhh…” Jeongin hums, and then he’s out like a light, with Seungmin following immediately after, sleeping soundly with the feeling of being freshly showered, with the love of his life curled up in his arms. An incredibly shitty shift… turned around at the last minute with a little love and affection.
Sometimes, all you really need is someone to hold you through things, and be there to support you.
And if in the morning, Seungmin wakes up feeling achy and pained in every muscle in his body after working hard for ten hours with no break to sit down and rest within, and Jeongin calls in sick for both of them at their respective jobs so they can spend the day resting and recharging together, well, that’s just for them to know.